ohrosie (ohrosie) wrote,
@ 2011-01-05 23:36:00

London had not changed in five years. Rose Weasley had.

From a distance, one could tell that the girl walked straighter. Confidence held her up like a marionette, taller and prouder than she had ever walked the halls of Hogwarts. Closer, one could see that her typically pale, though freckled, skin was tanned and darker than usual. There was a thick scar on her chin from an accident with a mob of doxies. From her months living on location, eating what plants were available and walking from place to place, she had become both thinner and stronger. Most people who knew her before would not recognize her in passing had it not been for the one thing that hadn't changed: her red hair.

It was a sudden decision to come back to England after five years traveling. It had nothing to do with the fact that she had no money: money wasn't needed with what she did, after all. But after four Christmases away from the family, four birthdays without her grandmother's cake, and four years without seeing from her family, Rose finally had to admit that she needed them and it was not weak to want to go home. She had no idea how long she'd stay, but as she walked through the Ministry, tall and straight, tanned and scarred, Rose had a feeling she was going to stay longer than she would have guessed. It surprised her how much she missed being around people.

Rose stepped into an empty lift and decided to see her father first. That surprised her as well: she had entered the Ministry with every intention of meeting up with her mother, as she had never been particularly close to her father, but she knew deep down he was who she really wanted to see.

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entitled_to_it
2011-01-06 04:23 am UTC (link)

Back from Delhi... Or was it Morocco? Prague? They all blurred together. Basil walked empty pockets through the corridors, trying to track down his dad. A rangy looking twenty something with holes in his Muggle jeans and a half tucked in button-down shirt ambling through the Ministry would normally cause a stir, but when your dad happened to be Minister of Magic, heads suddenly turned the other way. The last sixth months were a blur of country to country and girl to girl. He never stayed long. Getting what he came for; a new experience, a new high. He surfaced for occasional holidays and random stints in the simple London flat he'd rented weeks after leaving Hogwarts. The first two years out were far less eventful, filled with musing and sketches and whatever was on his mind when he wasn't sleeping or getting pissed at the pub below his flat. Finding himself. That's what he called it. And just when either parent began to protest, he'd submit a random piece to the Prophet or a literary journal and the accolades would be enough to tide him over.

Tripping over a lose shoelace, Basil tied it out of obligation, looking at curious eyes trying to catch a glimpse of the infamous Bristow bachelor. The ruddy shoe made his stomach cringe slightly with regret. Lowell was going to be pissed he'd shown up again under-dressed. Really, he just hadn't thought about it. He'd flown in just the night before, preferring Muggle air for the obscurity (as well as the flight attendants). The morning consisted of a cup of stale cereal and tossing on the few items of clothing he'd luckily found tossed in the back of a closet. He'd go shopping - once he convinced his dad to lend him a few galleons. Just until he could bother to find his Gringotts key. Really - it had to be in one of the boxes he kept at the manor. At least, he thought it was stashed alongside his old Head Boy badge and the prophet clippings that he'd found most entertaining.

Wandering to the nearest lift, he supposed he'd try and see who was around in the Auror department. Someone there kept tabs on his dad; naturally, being their job to protect and all. Pressing the button he slumped casually to the side, glancing around in boredom. Not like there was much to see. The Ministry was nothing like a dirty street corner or exotic beach. Same, standard, methodical, bland - not him. The chime rang and the doors opened. Basil yawned, turning to step foot, glancing up, and promptly turning slack-jawed. He'd had too much sun. Too much sun and booze and mirages had appeared before, so this was nothing different. The face was one he'd know anywhere, and most of all in his dreams. Though, he couldn't deny the small differences. It was the differences that convinced him she was real. Gaping long enough, the doors began to close, nearly shut when Basil furrowed his brow and shoved his hand to halt the automation. Casual, like he'd known all along (or perhaps cautiously that she was, indeed, a figment of his convoluted mind), Basil took a spot by her side and shrugged. "Security let you up here? Are you sure you aren't carrying some exotic disease?" His voice was slightly wary and his gaze remained stoically forward. "They scan for that sort of thing, right?"

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ohrosie
2011-01-06 04:29 am UTC (link)

In all honesty, she hadn't been paying attention. It was the first mistake to make in the jungle, or forest, or desert, but there was a warm comfort in the Ministry that gave Rose the ability to turn off her senses and go through movements without absorbing anything around her. She hardly even noticed someone stepped onto the lift, let alone who it was, until there was something about a voice that pulled her into the moment.

More than the voice itself, it was the tone. The joking, playful tone that they had shared for so many years together that five years of near-solitude would not be strong enough to erase. But Rose was out of practice, so in reply, she just kept her eyes forward on the door in front of them and said to the boy next to her, "You look like fucking shite."

	ohrosie 2011-01-07 03:53 pm UTC (link)
	"Ugh." Rose sneered and pushed past him, shoulder hitting his arm as she went back towards the lift. "Living off your father's fame. Disgusting." The lift arrived, and Rose walked in before giving him an impatient look. "Are you coming, or not, useless?" (Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

	ohrosie 2011-01-08 05:05 am UTC (link)
	She rolled her eyes. "What a martyr." Rose didn't watch the numbers tick. Instead, she focused on a stain on the floor, most likely from the owls used long ago that were replaced with magical parchment memos. It was in the shape of Argentina. "I didn't get in until past midnight," she explained. "Goodbyes last hours in South America." (Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

	ohrosie 2011-01-12 08:59 pm UTC (link)
	Of course they picked her. Rose smiled at Basil, a thankful smile, because while approval from her bosses was always welcome, Basil's felt warmer. When told, she took a sip of her drink and nodded. "Month is a long time," she assured him, but continued to drink anyway. "Come on now, what have you been up to?" (Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

	ohrosie 2011-01-12 11:31 pm UTC (link)
	"Traveling." Rose loved that word. "I'm not ashamed, I'm bursting with pride." She leaned forward, wide-eyed, eager. "Where'd you go? What did you see? Tell me everything, don't leave out any details." Her nose wrinkled. "Except for the birds you fucked, I don't want to hear about that." (Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

	ohrosie 2011-01-13 12:14 am UTC (link)
	Rose looked both pleased and impressed. "Bali. Basil in Bali." She shook her head and let out a laugh. "I can't picture it, I'm sorry. You're a pale English arsehole, and you spent time on Bali's beach?" She laughed again. "Natives must've fucking hated you, mate." (Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

	ohrosie 2011-02-08 03:31 am UTC (link)
	Rose smirked into the glass again. "You'd've hated it," she assured him. "You're not the Rio type. Too many men more handsome than you to compete with. Your ego would be too pained to stay long." (Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)